


hands of time (they'll wring my neck)

by novadocs



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29819514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novadocs/pseuds/novadocs
Summary: there’s a clock on the wall. it ticks endlessly.you find yourself staring at it more often than not. there isn't much else to do.
Kudos: 6





	hands of time (they'll wring my neck)

strange, the passage of time.

one minute you’ve won and the next, the rug disappears from out under you. it's a reminder that you aren't above natural consequences, and you hate it.

you’re nothing now, and it's all your fault. _pride cometh before the fall._

how did it feel, when the strings you had so meticulously attached to everyone, _every thing_ on the server, wove itself into a noose and tightened around your neck? did you have the nerve to be shocked? or did you see it coming?

the fruit of your labour is cold, hard obsidian, with sunset hues painted on your meagre belongings, not from the outside world, but from the lava that cages you in and marks you as a criminal.

are you proud of what you've done? maybe, in some twisted masochistic way.

there’s a clock on the wall. it ticks endlessly. 

_tick, tock. tick, tock. tick, tock._

you find yourself staring at it more often than not. there isn't much else to do.

* * *

the absence of control seeps into your psyche, and chafes at you bit by bit.

so you burn the clock, because it gets the warden to come back.

you ask him about the outside world. what is everyone doing? what events have taken place?

_are they happier,_ is what you can’t bring yourself to ask.

the warden gives you short, clipped answers. he’s not interested in conversing with you. you feel his hard glare through his mask. he hates you, of course. they all do.

it was only a matter of time.

the new clock ticks. it’s 3 o’clock ( _the devil’s hour,_ you muse), you have no idea if it’s morning or afternoon.

_tick, tock. tick, tock. tick, tock._

* * *

you keep burning the clocks, just to get him to come. it's lonely, but you’ve always been a lone wolf, haven’t you?

the warden stops coming to replace them. you don’t have control over his visits anymore.

the clock is gone. you still hear it though. you aren’t sure if the pitch has changed. you aren’t sure of anything anymore.

_tick, tock. tick, tock. tick, tock._

you wonder when the bell signalling your end will finally ring.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading :)
> 
> follow me on @kitamars_ on twitter and insta for art!
> 
> (title from my time by bo en!)


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